


Magic Maketh Man

by Slenderlock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Chester King is not a wizard, Eggsy is a dork, Eggsy is a wizard, Eggsy is not very good at not being a wizard, Fluff, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Merlin is so done, Mutual Pining, Non Explicit Sex, Starts when Harry is shot and continues on past the end of the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderlock/pseuds/Slenderlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Merlin’s <em>saggy ballsack,”</em> Eggsy swears. “How the fuck did you-”</p>
<p>Eggsy nearly falls onto the chess set as Merlin appears with a <em>crack</em> not two inches from his face.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Excuse me?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Maketh Man

It takes him three seconds to tear his eyes off the feed, slam the laptop shut, apparate to Harry’s side, and somehow manage to get back to St. Mungo’s with the added weight.

It takes him two minutes to realize that Harry’s glasses- though decimated on one side- are still on his face, and yes, when Eggsy checks under the edge of the left bow, the tiny red light is- _impossibly-_ still blinking.

Merlin’s balls. He’s fucked. 

There’s no way Merlin- the other Merlin, the one with no hair and a temper the size of bloody Hogwarts- hasn’t seen him. And even as he taps his feet in the waiting room, Harry’s body- _not his body, never just his body-_ leaning on his side, he knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pay them. It’s not like he’s got a castle’s worth of galleons stuffed in a bank account to use whenever he pleases.

A woman taps his shoulder and he sits up, head spinning.

“Er,” he says.

“Mr. Unwin,” she says, pleasantly. Beside her, two nurses levitate Harry up onto a standard issue hospital bed and begin pushing him towards the elevator. “We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been moved to the top of the waiting room list. If you would follow us, you may wait outside the patient’s room.”

Mouth open, he stands. “Uh.” He looks at the elevator just as the doors close around Harry’s limp form. “Right, yeah, sorry. Thank you.”

The woman nods and hands him a slip of paper. “Your estimated wait time is twenty five minutes,” she says, pleasantly. “If you would like some water or tea, refreshments can be found on the second floor. When your wait time has passed, you can find the patient in the room number listed on your card.” She nods to the slip of paper, which has _423_ written in bright green lettering.

He walks blankly to the elevator and rides to the second floor, feeling for all the world like he’s seventeen again and skipping out of Divination to sit by the lake and play with stolen Quidditch equipment with Ryan and Jamal. This place is _brimming_ with magic. His entire body pulses alongside it, craving the energy after having been starved for so long.

Christ, he’s been away from magic for so long that he actually flinches in surprise when his tea begins to stir itself.

Twenty five minutes pass and he finds himself beside Harry’s bed, taking the man’s hand in his own. Harry’s face is half covered in tight green bandages- Eggsy’s not sure if they’re actually glowing or not, but they seem to have some sort of aura about them- and his chest rises up and down, steadily.

Yeah, Eggsy’s fucked. But that doesn’t mean he’s not damn grateful.

The door slides open and another nurse comes in, holding a clipboard.

“Ah,” he says, smiling. “Good, you’ve found your way up here. Would you like a copy of the patient’s records?”

Eggsy blinks. “Yeah, that’d be great.” He bites his lip. “Listen, I. Do you know who I can talk to about, er, expenses?”

The nurse looks at him, blankly.

“Sir, your expenses have already been paid.”

“Hold on, what?”

The nurse shrugs. “That’s what it says, here.” He hands over a mint green sheet of paper. “Unfortunately, we weren’t able to save his eye. But he’ll speed along with facial reconstruction and recovery with a steady prescription of, ah-” He glances down at the paper. “Well, they haven’t specified, yet, but I’m sure the paperwork will come through within the hour. In any case, recovery will take anywhere from two to three weeks. Would you like to see a selection of replacement eyes?”

Eggsy’s eyes are still caught on the small _0_ printed after the words _Fees Due_ in the last quadrant, which is wide enough to support at least six figures. Given the circumstances, it _should_ be showing six figures.

“Sure,” he says, without thinking. “Um. Thank you.”

“Of course.” The nurse hands him a pamphlet and makes for the door. “Thank you for your continued patronage.”

And then Eggsy is alone.

Well, not completely alone. He has Harry, after all.

He takes Harry’s hand in his again and squeezes, tightly. It’s warm, and pulses with a steady flow of blood in his veins. Eggsy lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

None of this makes sense.

Someone in Kingsman’s got to have done this, he reasons to himself. Someone had seen Harry’s name in the St. Mungo’s records and paid it themselves, there’s no way anyone else could have paid for the treatment- there’s no way anyone else could have _known_ to pay for the treatment, and hold on, _continued patronage_ -

He sucks in a breath, unbidden. Christ, he thinks, when did he start crying?

The hospital itself must have some sort of comforting charm about it- or at least the hospital room- because he feels more at home here than he’s ever felt before in his life. Well, perhaps besides the Hufflepuff common room. He closes his eyes and lets the familiar feel of magic take him over again, run up his spine and through his fingertips. Hell, it even seems to pulse through Harry as well, through his sleeve-

He lets go, and the thread of magic breaks off, dissipating into the air.

Slowly, he pinches his fingers around Harry’s sleeve. It happens again, the pull of magic through the fabric onto his skin. He tests the weight of the material and yes, fuck, it makes sense. These suits aren’t bulletproof at all, they’re _magic._

Come to think of it.

Technology’s not supposed to work, not with magic. But Harry’s glasses are still on, still transmitting. And none of the tech Eggsy had been allowed to touch had broken, either.

_Sir, your expenses have already been paid._

He looks up and Merlin is standing, arms crossed, on the other side of the bed. A wand hangs loosely from his right hand.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you cheated,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

Torn between adrenaline of grief for Harry and the shock of realization from Merlin’s presence, Eggsy doesn’t quite catch on.

“I. What?”

“Back during training,” Merlin clarifies.

Eggsy blinks. “I did not _cheat,_ Merlin, I got as far as I did fair an’ square.”

On the bed, Harry groans softly and shifts under the hospital blankets, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Well,” Merlin says, “I suppose we don’t have time to argue about that.”

o0O0o

They keep Harry in St. Mungo’s for the time being, because for all intents and purposes, he’s dead. At least, Merlin says, that’s what the Muggle records will say. Harry, still unconscious under the influence of several prescribed potions, doesn’t complain.

o0O0o

“Odd.” Merlin frowns down at his phone, which is _still working,_ even though he’s a _bloody fucking wizard._

“Wot?” Eggsy asks, looking over his shoulder. He’s a bit light headed from apparating all the way back to Kingsman HQ, but he’s not completely unused to the sensation. He puts a hand on the wall to stabilize himself.

“Arthur wants a word with you.”

“Huh.” Eggsy frowns. “Hold on, weren’t he watching, too?”

“Undoubtedly.” Merlin huffs. “Luckily for you, I cut the feed off the moment I saw you. And then erased the last few seconds, for posterity.”

“You’re the governor, Merlin.” Eggsy shakes his head. “But won’t he still have seen me?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Merlin sighs. “There’s nothing we can do about that, I’m afraid. But it’s not an unlikely claim that Harry took you along on that mission- it’s even more likely that you were the one who stole along without telling him.”

“Right,” Eggsy says, uneasily. “I wonder what Arthur wants.”

“Probably wants to give you his condolences.” Merlin pats Eggsy on the shoulder. “As far as he knows, Galahad is dead. As far as anyone outside of you and me- and possibly Lancelot- Galahad is dead. You understand, Eggsy?”

Eggsy nods.

“You’ll look obvious with glasses,” Merlin says, regret tinging his voice. “I could charm them invisible, but that’s a mite too risky. The recorder on your jacket should do the trick.”

“Right.” Eggsy nods again. “An’ you?”

“I’m going to look through Galahad’s feeds and see if I can find anything else,” Merlin says, grimly. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

“You could set the whole thing to _Take Me To Church,”_ Eggsy suggests. “I think it’d fit.”

Merlin quirks an eyebrow. “Go, Eggsy. Arthur doesn’t appreciate lateness.”

o0O0o

“Arthur,” he greets, walking into the empty table room. Chester King nods at him as he enters. 

“Galahad is dead,” Chester says, cutting to the chase. “Hence. We have just drunk a toast to him.”

Eggsy doesn’t have the glasses to see the rest of the room, so he keeps his eyes on Chester.

“Well, then,” he says, “you know what that psycho’s doing.” It’s not difficult to mimic anger over grief- he’s angry enough as it is. “How many people in the world have got those SIM cards? Valentine can send a signal to any of them, all of them. If they all go down at the same time, then…”

Chester sighs. “Indeed. And, thanks to Galahad’s recordings, we have Valentine’s confession.” He swirls his nearly empty glass. “The intelligence has been passed on to the relevant authorities. Our work is complete.”

Relevant authorities? What, Eggsy thinks, there are authorities _over_ Kingsman? Do they answer to the Minister of fucking Magic?

“And a most distinguished legacy to our fallen friend it is, too,” Chester continues, solemnly.

“An’ that’s it?” Eggsy stares.

“Come sit down, boy.”

Eggsy sits uneasily. Chester doesn’t indicate which chair he should use- which, by extension, means they’re all empty. They’re alone. Instantly, the back of his neck prickles.

“This,” Chester says, gesturing to the glass in front of him, “is an 1815 Napoleonic brandy. And we only drink it when we lose a Kingsman.”

He pours out two glasses.

“Galahad was very fond of you, wasn’t he?”

Eggsy nods, swallowing a lump down his throat. “Yeah,” he says. “Um. Yeah.”

“Then, I think this is an acceptable occasion to bend the rules a little.” Chester smiles gently, pushing a glass forward. Eggsy eyes it for a moment, and as Chester bends over to slide the glass, Eggsy can just make out a faint mark on his neck. The back of his neck stops prickling, and his hands stop shaking.

He points over Chester’s shoulder to the portraits on the walls. “These are all Kingsmen?” he asks, casually. Chester turns, and it takes less than a second to swap the glasses.

“Yes,” Chester says, impatiently. “Those are our founding members.” He turns back and holds his glass up. “I want you to join me in a toast.”

Eggsy takes his glass and raises it to meet Chester’s.

“To Galahad,” Chester says.

“To Galahad,” Eggsy echoes, and they drain their glasses.

“Harry said,” Eggsy begins, aware that Chester hasn’t once spoken Harry’s name, “that you don’t like to break the rules, often.” He frowns. “So why now?”

He has no doubt Chester’s turned off all of the security equipment in this room. If he can get a spoken recording, Merlin might actually smile at him. And, well. He’d have enough to put Chester away.

“You’re very good, Eggsy,” Chester says, eyes gleaming. His eyes dart to Eggsy’s sleeve, where a thin length of wood presses gently up against his skin.

Eggsy sits up a little straighter.

“I had my suspicious, of course,” Chester continues. “I oversaw your training. You… seem to have remarkable luck.”

“Luck,” he repeats, stiffly.

“You didn’t have any trouble holding your breath three times as long as the other candidates.” Chester sits back in his chair. “You and Lancelot remained remarkably airborne, even though you were supported by just the one parachute.”

Eggsy blinks, remembering. True, he hadn’t thought too much about having to breathe, but that had been the adrenaline. And the parachutes, well. Merlin must have charmed them, first.

“And you had to be by his side, didn’t you?” Chester narrows his eyes. “I suspect Galahad is stashed away safely in one of your hospitals, is he?”

_Your._ So Chester King isn’t-

“You’re a squib,” he says, before he can stop himself.

“I was wondering if you’d get there.” Chester nods. “You’re intelligent. Though in my experience, _intelligence_ was never valued much in your world.”

“That ain’t true.”

“You’re remarkably proficient for your age,” Chester says, with just a hint of bitterness. “Perhaps I’ll make you my nominee for our next opening.”

He holds up a pen- the same pen Harry had held an inch from his face not a day ago.

“Can you guess what this is?”

“I don’t have to.” Eggsy stares right past the pen and into Chester’s eyes. “You click it, I die.” He snorts. “I thought that brandy tasted a bit shit.” Not quite as shit as polyjuice potion with a lock of Jamal’s hair, but he doesn’t say as much.

“Bravo,” Chester says, icily.

“Valentine got to you,” Eggsy snaps. “I dunno how. But he did.”

“My boy.” Chester sits back in his chair. “There are certain things you learn when you reach my age. One of them, I believe you’ve learnt already.” He sighs. “There truly are no exceptions when it comes to societal standards.”

Eggsy bristles.

“Those on top,” Chester says, “will remain on top. While the others are resigned to be bottom feeders for the rest of their lives.”

“An’ what’s what got to do with Valentine?”

“Like I said, boy. There are no exceptions. But there are opportunities.”

Eggsy stiffens. “You’re- you think you’re on the bottom?”

“The King line is one of the most influential magical lines in the country,” Chester says, coolly. “Of course, they were supportive enough. But there was never room for a squib in their ranks.”

“You got jealous, didn’t you?”

“I tolerate wizards- _a_ wizard- here because he is useful.” Chester’s eyes narrow. “However. I am willing to give you an opportunity.”

“You’re gonna sit by an’ watch as the world destroys itself,” Eggsy growls. “You- I bet you sifted through Valentine’s list of survivors and picked off every drop of magical blood you could find.”

“Opportunities like this,” Chester says, “are few and far between.”

“You want me to join you.” Eggsy stares. “As, as what? Your secret weapon? Wot, you gonna make me threaten Valentine an’ get him to do what you want? An’ if he doesn’t, I’ll what? Turn ‘is lady friend into a toad or summat?”

“Very good idea,” Chester praises. He holds up the pen. “In Harry’s honor- and because I can appreciate talent when I see it, I am inviting you to be part of a new world.”

Harry’s name sounds like brick dust on Chester’s tongue.

“It is, of course, your decision.”

Eggsy keeps his face as blank as he can.

“I’d rather be with Harry,” he says. “Thanks.”

“So be it.” Chester frowns, bitterly, and deploys the poison.

“The problem with us common types,” Eggsy continues, fiddling with the glass as Chester stares, “is that we’re light fingered.” He watches for the moment when Chester realizes, and leans over. “An’ the problem with you,” he hisses, “is that you didn’t think I’d be smart enough to rely on anythin’ other than magic. Cause I’m just a wizard, ain’t I? Don’t know nothin’ about the _real world,_ do I?

Chester chokes, sinking an inch down the chair.

“Yeah, I felt your wards.” Eggsy glances to the door. “Don’t think I don’t know when some place bars magic.”

“You- dirty little fucking _prick-”_

“But you hated your muggle side, didn’t you?” Eggsy sets the glass down. “Bit ironic, innit? Downed by wot defined you. Muggle simplicity.”

_“Fuck you.”_

Chester’s head falls onto the table.

o0O0o

_It’s why he can’t pull the trigger at JB; because if he’d pointed his wand and shouted Avada Kedavra, it wouldn’t have done a damn thing._

_Because with magic, he has to mean it, he has to want with every fiber of his being when he says the spell and twists the magic in the air through his wand._

_But any idiot can pull the trigger to a gun and kill._

o0O0o

At the end of it all, Valentine and Gazelle are just two Muggles who grew too big for their own boots.

And thank god, Eggsy thinks, because if Valentine had ever gotten his hands on magic, they’d have another Voldemort on their hands. There’d be no telling the destruction he’d leave in his wake with every step he took.

But at the end of it all, Harry is alive.

“Eggsy,” he says uneasily, “I believe we might need to relocate.” He looks over at the hospital room, warily. “That nurse just offered me a _potion.”_ He looks down at Eggsy’s lap, where the stick- _eight and a half inches, maple, containing one unicorn hair and one drop of Acromantula blood-_ rests innocuously.

“What is that?” he asks, squinting as if he’s not sure whether or not he’s actually hallucinating.

“It’s my wand,” Eggsy says, easily.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or if you’re talking about your cock.” Harry wrinkles his nose. “And to be quite honest, I’m not sure which is worse.”

“I think you mean _better.”_ Eggsy waggles his eyebrows.

Merlin apparates into the doorway, tablet in hand, and Harry swears so loudly that a nurse shoves the door open and knocks Merlin’s tablet to the floor.

At the end of it all, things end up Pretty Okay.

o0O0o

Much later after V-Day, Eggsy manages to sneak a hair growing potion into Merlin’s coffee.

Much, _much_ later after V-Day, Merlin charms Eggsy’s tie to untie itself constantly.

And after that, it descends into a prank war of astronomical proportions.

(It extends to Harry one day when Eggsy charms the ink out of his pens. Harry insists that using magic is Absolutely Not Fair. Eggsy sighs and charms ink back into them.)

(He doesn’t tell Harry it’s pink ink until the man uses it to sign the official papers to seal his title as Arthur. Eggsy refuses to charm it back. Harry resigns himself to asking Merlin.)

(Merlin also refuses.)

o0O0o

_The best they offer is a halfhearted, “At least you won’t be an Eighth-year.” And so he ignores the students crowding to be aurors or healers, and returns home without saying goodbye to his teachers._

_The Muggle army doesn’t ask questions and he buries himself in the training for as long as he can._

_He gets a letter before he even finishes basic- it’s from his mum. Daisy needs him, she says, and he knows without reading another word that Daisy is his new sister, and that Daisy is a witch._

_Mum’s great-great grandmother had been a squib, and until Eggsy- and now Daisy- they’d assumed she’d ended the branch of magic in her family tree. Mum won’t be able to take care of another magical child- not without someone like Lee. Not without Eggsy. And certainly not with Dean._

_So he comes home and waits for his little Daisy to turn eleven so she can get out of this mess._

_He only finds magic useful when he’s using his old cauldron and sixth year textbook to whip up a potion that’ll help calm down his mum a bit, just for a while. He doesn’t dare give anything to Dean._

_Though he’s half tempted to poison the son of a bitch._

o0O0o

“Look at you, getting so big.” He hefts Daisy up under her arms and she squeals in delight. Over their heads, a lightbulb shatters.

Eggsy pulls his wand from his back pocket and mutters a quick _Repairo._

“Now, now,” he says, setting her down. “None of that.”

“Eggy!” she screams, reaching up for him.

“I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere.” Eggsy smiles and pats her head.

Harry eyes the lightbulb. “I can’t imagine how your upbringing must have been,” he muses.

“Oi, shut it.” Eggsy kisses Daisy’s head. “Not long until you’ll be going off to school, is it?” Daisy sticks out her tongue. “Just another eight years, yeah?”

“Eggy!”

“May I?”

Eggsy stares, dumbfounded, at Harry.

“She’s a handful,” he warns, picking her up. “An’ she might set you on fire.” Harry raises an eyebrow. “It’s happened before.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Daisy latches her little arms around his neck and he lifts an arm to support her. She gurgles something, grabbing at his hair.

“There, now, I’m not a jungle gym,” Harry chides.

“Aw, she begs to differ.” Eggsy walks around to Harry’s back and grins at Daisy. “You like climbing, Daisy girl? You like climbing on Harry?”

“A’rry!” Daisy shouts.

Eggsy whoops. “That’s my girl! Hold on a mo’, let me get my camera!”

He apparates to his room, fetches his phone, and apparates back into the living room.

“Walking fifteen feet won’t kill you, you know,” Harry says, wryly.

“You never know.” Eggsy shrugs. “Daisy baby, smile for the camera!”

Daisy giggles and hugs Harry’s neck tighter. Harry pats her back gently and Eggsy’s heart twists in a way that it’s _not supposed to twist_ and oh lord he’s fucked.

o0O0o

Potions might never have been his strongest subject, but he’s had more experience whipping up sleeping draughts for Daisy and calming droughts for his mother and pepper-up potions for himself than anything else he’s learned from school.

So when he pulls out his seventh year textbook and finds the instructions for Amortentia, he wastes no time stopping by Diagon Alley for supplies and whipping up a small batch for himself.

Not to _use,_ of course. Christ, he’s not _that_ bad.

But he’s fed up with what he thinks is probably flirting and glances that might mean everything and might mean nothing and Merlin giving him pitiful looks and Roxy showing up to his door with three goddamn pints of ice cream- okay, so that last one had ended up all right, but _still._

He makes enough for four bottles- the bottom had burnt a little, unfortunately, so he doesn’t get the six he was hoping for- and sets to work smearing one of them all over his skin. He rubs on the sides of his neck, under his wrists, over his clavicle, and after a moment of hesitation, just about everywhere else he can reach.

He strides through the hallway, ignoring the way that every single head turns as he goes. They’re all trained agents, of course, so no one tackles him into the wall.

Merlin, to his credit, only starts drooling once.

The moment he realizes exactly what it is Eggsy’s done, he gives him a dirty look, wipes the spit off his face and sits back up in his chair, muttering something about lemons and gunpowder.

At last, he reaches Harry’s office.

Harry looks up immediately as he enters, eyes wide.

“Just droppin’ off the paperwork from last mission,” Eggsy says, holding up a manila file. “Out of your hair in a tic.”

Harry wrinkles his nose.

“You ought to take a shower.”

Eggsy blinks. “Scuse me?”

“You smell like you haven’t bathed yourself in weeks.”

“An’ what’s that supposed to mean, bruv?” Eggsy folds his arms defensively. Out of all the reactions from Harry he’d imagined, this is most certainly _not one of them._ Harry’s supposed to smell the damn Amortentia- and besides, he’d just showered yesterday. He’s not _that_ bad. Is he?

“Your sweat always smells the same,” Harry says, dryly. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget, even in the next decade.” He inhales again, frowning. “Did you spill a drink on your suit?”

“Brandy,” Eggsy says, nodding. Of course Harry smells brandy- the fuck else was he expecting? “Yep. Shame, it was expensive stuff.”

“No, not brandy.” Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s nothing like brandy, you don’t know how to lie properly. No, that’s… is that _marshmallow flavored vodka?”_

Eggsy’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline. “Uh,” he says. “That’s- Rox dared me to.”

Harry snorts. “I’m sure.” He looks to the side of his desk. “You don’t happen to have a copy of today’s paper on you, by any chance?”

“Afraid not.” Eggsy snorts. “Why?”

Harry hums. “Just came to mind.”

o0O0o

Eggsy’s never seen Harry drink anything other than brandy and martinis before, and so when he waltzes into Harry’s office with a bottle of whipped cream flavored vodka and a bottle of Kahlua, Harry stares at him as if he’s grown an extra head.

“Rox told me it’s the bomb,” Eggsy insists. Harry makes a front about disgusting cheap drinks but nonetheless takes a glass.

When he leaves Harry’s office two hours later, the bottles weigh significantly less.

Eggsy doesn’t fall asleep thinking about the tipsy flush on Harry’s cheeks, doesn’t dream about Harry’s lips curved around the rim of his glass, and doesn’t wake up rutting against his pillow, _thank you very much._

When Merlin gives him a look for being late the next morning, well. He blames it on the hangover.

o0O0o

And then one day Eggsy wakes up coughing and looks down and can’t see his own legs.

“Merlin told me you’ve been benched; are you quite all right?” Harry’s voice says through the tinny speaker in Eggsy’s phone. To an onlooker, Eggsy might have invented a way to levitate his phone in thin air.

“M’ fine,” he mumbles, voice hoarse. “Jus’ come down with somethin’. I’ll be all right come Friday, jus’ need some time to recover.”

“Oh?” Harry’s voice changes abruptly from concerned to curious. “What is it?”

Eggsy mutters something into the phone, leaning back on his pillow.

“What?”

_“Invisibility fucking sickness,_ all right?”

Harry is suspiciously silent for a few moments before replying.

“My, your peoples’ nomenclature is nothing if not literal.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Eggsy moans, and dissolves into another fit of coughs.

o0O0o

This is proven true not a month later, when Eggsy comes down with one of the nastiest cases of Dragon Pox he can remember.

“Eggsy, are you all right? You’re, ah. Steaming. As in. Actually steaming.”

Eggsy sneezes and sets fire to his blankets, and that seems to shut Harry up.

o0O0o

Harry smiles.

“Rook to H2,” he says, and his rook gives him a scathing look before reluctantly sliding to the aforementioned place. Eggsy’s managed to bully his chess set into letting Harry play with them, after a two hour debate that it doesn’t matter whether the player giving them instructions is one with magical blood or not. “I believe you’ll find that’s checkmate.”

Eggsy looks down at the chessboard and, sure enough, his king is throwing his crown down onto the ground, furiously. Harry’s king reaches over and gives his bishop a high five.

“Merlin’s _saggy ballsack,”_ Eggsy swears. “How the _fuck_ did you-”

Eggsy nearly falls onto the chess set as Merlin appears with a _crack_ not two inches from his face.

_“Excuse me?”_

On the other side of the board, Harry tries valiantly- and fails- to keep from bursting out into laughter.

“Bloody _fucking_ hell, the fuck-” Eggsy babbles, getting to his feet. “You ain’t got a clue ‘bout basic manners, do you?”

“Not when someone is cursing my-”

_“Other fuckin’ Merlin-_ an’ how the fuck did you hear that?”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. Eggsy snorts.

“Is this payback for the portkey thing, because I swear on my life, mate, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’ll be benched for a month if I hear one more word about my-”

“If you two are done bickering, I believe I’ve just won my second game of chess with Eggsy, which ends our two out of three match. And I do have work to do, so if you wouldn’t mind?”

Merlin grumbles and disapparates with a _crack._

o0O0o

See, here’s the thing.

Eggsy knows Harry’s, well. Harry. And while he won’t stoop so low as to slip a love potion into Harry’s morning tea, he’s certainly not below getting smashed and feeling sorry for himself every once in a while.

Roxy’s a mate. She may not know how to conjure a cheering charm or brew up a bottle of pepper-up potion, but she knows how to buy a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bottle of Kraken, and that’s more than enough for Eggsy.

Because, really, it’s none of his business what Harry wants- or, in this case, doesn’t want. And really, he’s fine. Harry’s obviously happy as he is, so. It’s good enough for Eggsy. So he doesn’t spend hours awake at night thinking about Harry.

Really, he doesn’t.

o0O0o

_Because that’s what he does when he dreams, dreams of newsprint and formaldehyde and marshmallow vodka, the dreams he keeps and saves in glass vials, white and bursting with light, waiting for him to relive them over and over again._

o0O0o

But given all of this- when it actually happens, it’s an accident.

All he’d wanted was to bust Merlin down a peg, all right? And sure, it had been hard to find fingernail clippings- because the day he got a hair sample from Merlin was the day he was appointed seeker of England’s Quidditch team.

But really, all he’d wanted to do was make Merlin look like a tit in front of the rest of HQ.

And then, well. And then Harry runs into him and his eyes, Christ, his eyes.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, in the gravest voice Eggsy’s ever heard. And the look in his eyes, god, Eggsy knows that if he says ‘no’, Harry’s heart will all but shatter in two.

“Of course,” he says, because he can’t say anything else.

Harry drags him into his office and shuts the door, cautiously. He takes Eggys’s- Merlin’s- hands in his own and looks into his eyes- Merlin’s balls, are those _tears?_

“I…” Harry swallows. “I have a rather. I have an unusual. This is difficult to articulate properly, fucking hell- I have a request.”

“A request,” Eggsy repeats, blankly.

“I am very fond of you,” Harry says, rubbing a thumb over Merlin’s hand, and Eggsy’s heart damn near breaks in two. “In- well, in a few ways more than one. But- and I know you’ve spoken about this, so I won’t press on- I know you aren’t one for… romantic attachments.”

“No,” Eggsy agrees, heart thundering.

“And I know that there’s never going to be an- an _emotional_ attachment between us, and I understand that, and- and you know I’m torn, of course you do, but there’s nothing else for it.”

And Eggsy is absolutely out of his depth here. He has no idea what the hell Harry’s on about, so he just nods stupidly.

“And I thought, if you weren’t averse,” Harry stumbles on, “that you might- that we might come to an agreement, you know- a coping method, if you will- Christ, I can’t take this anymore, just- say something, kiss me, _anything-”_

And because he’s Eggsy and he’s arse over tits over the goddamn _moon_ for Harry, and because Harry is literally here begging him to do something about it, he takes Harry’s head in his hands and kisses him soundly.

Guilt lining his stomach, he moans into Harry’s mouth as the man grabs him around the neck.

And then he’s being bent over Harry’s desk, and Harry’s lips are on his neck and on his ears and caressing his lips and- he slides his hands up Harry’s shirt and touches everything he can, worships every inch he can reach.

He’s so caught between the tidal wave of guilt and the nebulous euphoria of _Harry is doing this to me Harry wants this with me_ that he doesn’t hear when Harry whispers _Eggsy_ softly, so softly, over his ear.

It’s the most confusing orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

He lies over Harry’s desk, clothes all wrong, trousers and pants soiled, and sees the clock on the wall.

The minute hand inches towards the hour and dread, cold dread, floods down to his fingertips.

Harry’s lips are still on his neck but he needs to _go,_ shit, shit, he has to get out of here, he has to get out of here _now-_

“I-” He pushes Harry up off of him, stands from the desk. Clumsily, he does up his trousers. “I just remembered, I have to…”

Harry stares at him.

“Do work,” Eggsy finishes, lamely. “I, uh- let’s.”

Harry takes a step forward.

“Let’s not talk about this,” Eggsy says, because if he doesn’t, Merlin’s going to have his head on a platter. “At. At all.”

Fuck, he’s so fucked, he’s so _fucking fucked-_

He scrambles out the door and doesn’t see the way Harry’s face crumples in return.

o0O0o

Merlin comes back the next morning, oblivious.

Harry greets him stiffly and gives no mention of the previous night.

Merlin gives no mention of the previous night, because Merlin has no memories of Harry kissing up and down his neck, over his temples, worshipping his lips. Merlin smiles blandly at him and returns to his desk without so much as a ‘how was your morning’.

o0O0o

_And Harry looks at his neckline and frowns, because he’s sure he’d left a hickey on there, hadn’t he?_

o0O0o

“What on earth did you do to your neck, Eggsy?”

“Ah- um. Roxalot an’ I got a little, uh. Rough during training yesterday.”

“Do be more careful, next time. The last thing we want is for you to lose your voice during a mission.”

_“Actually,”_ Merlin calls from the other room, _“that’s just fine with me.”_

o0O0o

But, see. Here’s the thing. The real thing.

The real thing is, Eggsy’s not actually very good at magic.

Sure, he can do a summoning spell when he doesn’t feel like getting up to grab a snack, and sure, he can fix up a couple of potions every once in a while. But he can’t make a patronus, his shield charms wouldn’t deflect bullets, and he wouldn’t dare try conjuring up flames- at least, not around HQ.

But Merlin?

Merlin is a fucking genius. He’s as good as, well. Fucking _Merlin._

It’s no wonder the man’s ended up here- and it’s no wonder he’s earned his title. No doubt Chester King had thought himself clever- after all, he’d invented the position. Until Merlin had joined their ranks, they’d had to make do with knights taking turns as each other’s handlers.

But back to Merlin.

Who is not a ‘fucking genius’, for heaven’s sake. He’d just paid attention in his goddamn classes and actually learned a thing or two.

Such as how to perform a patronus charm. And how to deflect the _Imperious_ curse. And how to alter his tech so it didn’t automatically short out every time he touched it.

And he’s not blind- he doesn’t know why Harry’s been avoiding him like he’s a piece of rotten meat in the back of the refrigerator, but he bets it has something to do with the way Eggsy refuses to look either of them fully in the eyes.

So it only takes a quiet mutter of _Legilimence_ when Eggsy stops by to annoy him one day to see. Everything.

And while one part of him wonders furiously how Eggsy had managed to make polyjuice potion in his likeness, most of him is focused on the fact that his two colleagues- okay, one colleague, one annoying dog- are Actually Idiots.

So he barely stops himself from spiking both of their morning drinks with Veritaserum, and has to settle himself with doing things the old fashioned way.

o0O0o

The old fashioned way is, of course, spiking their _food_ with Veritaserum.

Eggsy happily downs the entire box of chocolate cauldrons, Harry enjoys his square of coconut ice- completely separately, of course- and Merlin sends Eggsy’s glasses a notice that Harry needs to see him in his office, right now, it’s _very urgent._

Eggsy apparates into Harry’s office- despite Harry having told him a thousand times not to- eyes wide, and scans the room.

“What’s wrong?” he demands. “Did summat happen? You’s okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Harry says, frowning. “Eggsy, what are you doing here?”

“Got a message, said you needed me.” Eggsy pulls of his glasses.

“Well, I d-” Harry stops short, as if he’s tasted something incredibly unpleasant on his tongue. He frowns.

“You wot?” Eggsy prompts.

“I didn’t call for you,” Harry says, regaining composure. “It must have been a mistake.”

Eggsy blinks. “Yeah, uh. Guess so.”

He twists to apparate out, and lands flat on his face.

Harry peers at him from over his desk, eyebrows raised.

“The _fuck-”_ Eggsy mutters, getting to his feet. He tries again, and lands with his hands pressed for support on Harry’s desk. “Why can’t I-”

He turns to the door and finds it locked. Gritting his teeth, he pulls out his wand.

“Alohamora.”

He pulls at the handle. Still locked.

“Alohamora. _Alohamora. Alohafuckingmora-”_

“I take it this isn’t your doing?” Harry smiles at him, clearly amused.

“No, I- fuck, what the fuck does Merlin want?”

The knot of worry in Eggsy’s stomach does nothing but twist and twist and _twist._ Something in his stomach turns over and he stares at Harry.

“It was me,” he says, before he can even process that he’s speaking. He claps a hand over his mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” Harry frowns. “What, exactly, was you?”

The question sends words tumbling out of his mouth before he can think of them.

“It was me, what kissed you that night, not Merlin, I brewed up a pot of polyjuice potion to look like Merlin for an hour, to turn his reputation ‘round here tits up, but you came along an’ I didn’t know what to say an’ I should have said no but I didn’t an’ you kissed me an’ it was me, it weren’t Merlin, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

He slams a fist into the wall when he’s done, because fucking hell, of course.

“Merlin give you something today, too?” he growls. “Bastard gave me a box of chocolate cauldrons.”

“I’m in love with you,” Harry says, and blinks. “Oh, dear. Yes, I see what you mean. And yes, he did.”

“You wot?”

Harry winces. “You’re really not making this easy by asking me direct questions, you know.”

Eggsy takes a step forward. “No, you said summat. About me. What was that?”

“I’m in love with you,” Harry repeats. “Stop it, Eggsy.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know, precisely. I’ve known since Kentucky, when I believed I’d never get the chance to tell you.” He makes a face.

“And what do you mean when you say you’re in love with me?” Eggsy presses.

“In every sense of the word,” Harry says. “In that I want you by my side through thick and thin, in that I worship you and your voice and everything you do. In that I want to ensure your safety but I know I can’t always. In that I want to know you inside and out. In that I cannot imagine my life without you- and if I could, I would dread returning to it. In that I want you to want the same of me.”

Harry finishes and sinks his head into his hands. “Dear god,” he mutters, “I didn’t think that would be quite so poetic.”

“It’s perfect,” Eggsy breathes.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Harry asks, and the question doesn’t pull out an answer, it burns around him and the answer bubbles up in return.

“Because I’m arse over fucking tits in love with you, too.”

“Oh.” Harry coughs. “I. Was not aware.”

“Yeah, clearly.” He frowns. “But what was that about you sayin’ you were all fond of Merlin?”

“He’s… attractive,” Harry admits. No doubt Merlin is watching them both, now. “But he’s informed me on several occasions that he’s not one for romantic attachment. And while I do care for him- and his arse, namely- I’m afraid my attachment to him doesn’t hold a candle to my rather embarrassing addiction to you.”

“Nicely put.” Eggsy folds his arms. “So, what, now?”

“Now,” Harry says, standing from his desk, “I think I’d rather like to kiss you.”

And because Eggsy really can’t refuse that- no, really, he _physically can’t-_ he crosses the room and plants his mouth firmly over Harry’s.

o0O0o

_Daisy gets her letter many years later, and Eggsy and Harry wave goodbye from the train platform._

_She sends them a letter the next day, littered with exclamation points- she’s a Gryffindor, of course she is._

_Eggsy tells her where all the best secret passages are and which teachers are the best to talk to when things don’t go well._

_The next year, she makes the Quidditch team and gives Rhys Anderson a concussion from the force of the bludger she sends pelting his way. Harry sends her a proper broom. Eggsy sends her a box of Honeyduke’s sweets._

_And of course Eggsy signs her Hogsmeade permission slip the next year- and gets to enjoy the look on Harry’s face when he opens Daisy’s box of presents from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes._

_And later, Harry buys them a Pensieve for their anniversary, “in hopes that we might fill it with our histories together,” and Eggsy nearly breaks it with the force he tackles Harry with for a kiss._

_Harry doesn’t say that he wants Eggsy to have a way to remember him by, when he’s gone, and Eggsy doesn’t say that he knows that, and they don’t mention it._

_Daisy comes home every Christmas to celebrate with her mum, and Eggsy brings Harry over to his mum’s house for Christmas dinner. And if Michelle gives Harry a calculating glance before serving him his mashed potatoes, well. He doesn’t say anything about it._

_Because Eggsy has magic back, now, and even if he was never the best student, magic had still belonged to him, and he to it. And now he has his magic, and now he has his family and his job, and now he has Harry._

_So he thinks he’s got it pretty good._

**Author's Note:**

> ffff so I had a skype conversation with [ciwpid](http://www.cipwid.tumblr.com) which was basically what if Kingsman HP crossover and then I smashed this out
> 
> (I might look this over again and change some things later, but I really wanted to get this up hahaah)


End file.
